


The Shame Games

by OpalizedFossil



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Anal Sex, Biting, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, F/M, Kinky Trash, Leash/Collar, Master/Pet, Oral Sex, Pet Play, Rough Sex, Vaginal Sex, fem dom, handjobs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-03-18 16:07:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13685106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpalizedFossil/pseuds/OpalizedFossil
Summary: When Lars and the Off-Colors are captured and Emerald is allowed to personally decide their punishments, Lars expects to be imprisoned, tortured, and eventually killed. What he doesn't expect is...this.





	1. Chapter 1

“Here, Citrine.”

Lars can’t see, but he can hear. There are footsteps, echoing hollowly in a hallway. Two types of footsteps. One is the heavy, steady gait of a quartz soldier - presumably the gem currently carrying him, tossed over her broad shoulder like a ragdoll with his legs swaying freely underneath him - while the other is the distinctive, metallic clink-clink-clink of Emerald’s heels on the tiles. The blindfold tied around his head encompasses him in near total darkness, a sliver of light ebbing in around its silky edges. He has no idea where they are or where they’re going, but, with Emerald, it can’t possibly be good.

The footsteps stop. There’s a digital beep, then the mechanical slide of an automatic door. The footsteps resume, the citrine soldier carrying him into a chamber he can’t see.

“You can leave him on the floor,” Emerald’s voice says. Lars feels the citrine shift him forward, off of her shoulder, then lay him down on the floor, the tiles hard and absolutely bitterly cold. His immediate instinct is to scramble to his feet and run, even if he has no chance of escape, but his wrists and ankles are both tightly bound in wraps of silk, effectively rendering him motionless. Still, he struggles, mumbling malcontentment as he twists sideways on the floor, until he’s silenced by the cold toe of a boot resting lightly on his prone head.

“Quiet,” Emerald’s voice orders, then he hears her clap, “That will be all, Citrine. You are dismissed.”

Lars hears the heavy quartz footsteps retreating, then the whoosh of the automatic door twice as it opens and closes. It’s quiet for a moment, so quiet that he can hear the mechanical whir of the central cooling system behind the walls.

Emerald’s foot withdraws from his head. Then, unexpectedly, he feels her fingers on him, untying the blindfold. He’s glaring daggers at her as she tugs it free, stooped down beside him with that terrible snaggle-toothed smirk on her face. He wants to keep on glaring at her, gritting his teeth and grimacing and growling, but he has to stop to squint in the sudden lights, the chambers seeming overwhelmingly bright after spending so long engulfed in darkness.

“Well, Off-Color,” Emerald taunts him, “It seems I’ve won. The Sun Incinerator has been returned to its rightful place on Homeworld and you and your crew are in my custody. The Diamonds were very pleased with me, you know. So pleased, in fact, that they’ve generously elected to let me personally decide your punishment.”

The color fades from Lars’ features. Oh, no. No, no, no…

Laughing, Emerald rises and spreads her arms, gesturing to the room around her. Now that Lars has adjusted to the lights, he sees that he’s somewhere rather dim and cozily decorated. It’s quite unlike the other places he’s seen on Homeworld, all brilliantly illuminated with fluorescent lights and filled with futuristic technological wonders like levitating computer screens. Here, there are no bright lights or strange computer systems, the majority of the space occupied by three mossy green sofas - a hideous color, he might add - and an exaggeratedly oversized bed, dressed in a silky canopy that casts it in sultry shadow.

“Welcome to my chambers,” Emerald announces, her laughter ebbing away into a sideways smirk, her sharp teeth glinting bright white even in the low lights, “This is where I’m going to punish you, Off-Color.”

Lars’ vision flashes with nightmarish images of Emerald stringing him up from the ceiling and relishing in torturing him, until the decorative tiles run red with his blood and she’s choking him on a coil of his own innards - and then she reaches for his captain’s cloak, plucking it off of him and taking it away, to hang on a hook beside the door. She returns, scooping him up and bringing him over to the sofa, where she sits him upright with his wrists and ankles still bound and smirks, patting his cheek.

“All the shame, the humiliation, the indignity you caused me…,” Emerald laments, grinning maliciously as she pokes him in the nose with one finger, “I’m going to cause you, Off-Color.”

Lars swallows hard. “What are you going to do to me?”

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Emerald muses before she starts to walk away. Lars grunts in protest, wrestling with his wrist bindings, trying to tear through the lengths of silk. But Emerald ignores him, the chamber door opening, then closing quietly behind her.

Lars is alone. Emerald’s chambers are cold and, without his cloak, his skin soon starts to prickle with gooseflesh. He grumbles in irritation, but doesn’t stop struggling with his bindings, hoping that he’ll be able to tear through them and somehow escape before Emerald returns, still not entirely convinced that she’s not going to hang him up from the ceiling and slit his stomach and watch his innards fall out. What’s she going to do with him? He doesn’t want to be here long enough to find out.

Unfortunately, Emerald returns sooner rather than later. The chamber door slides aside as she enters, carrying an opaque plastic container that he can only imagine is filled to the brim with surgical instruments and a hangman’s noose and something to record his torture on.

Emerald looks at him and sets the container down. “Calmed down now, have we? There’s no need to panic, Off-Color. You can rest assured that I’m not here to harm you. You’re going to be treated well here, in fact. And your crew is safe, too, I’ve made certain of that.”

Lars doesn’t believe her. He flinches when she reaches for him, surprised when he feels her tugging the ties on his wrists loose. The silk tie falls away and his arms instantly droop, the elbows stiff and sore from being bent for so long. Next comes the tie on his ankles, his toes flexing in his socks when he’s able to separate his feet again. His boots fell off somewhere between the ship and here, while the citrine was carrying him.

“There,” Emerald coos, “Better?”

“Better,” Lars reluctantly agrees, then forces himself to ask, even if he isn’t sure he wants to know, “What’s in the box?”

“Oh, this?” Grinning, Emerald knocks on the container. “Just a few tools we’ll need for tonight.”

He swallows. “Like what?”

“How about I show you?” Emerald prompts, smirking dangerously. Lars instantly regrets asking, seeing the glint in her one gleaming green eye and wondering what horrors she has in store for him. Then, Emerald snaps her fingers and points at the coffee table - if it can be called that, he doubts gem society consumes coffee - between them and the adjacent sofa.

“Up,” she orders, “Stand on all fours. You would do well to listen to me.”

Hesitantly, Lars slides off the sofa and climbs onto the decorative table, positioning himself on all fours obediently. Part of him feels awkward, but most of him feels scared - especially when she removes the lid from the container and procures a pair of surgical scissors, flinching when she points them at him.

“Easy,” Emerald tells him, then begins cutting away his burgundy shirt, startling him.

“H-Hey, what are you doing?!” Lars demands.

“I’m removing your clothing, obviously,” she replies, “I can’t harbor a human who is sick or diseased and, if I’m going to perform a proper examination, I’ll need to be able to see all of you. Don’t worry, I’ll give you something to put on afterwards.”

Lars shudders in the cold as she tears the rest of his shirt away, discarding it. Then, he feels her unfasten his belt and tug it away from his trousers, which she promptly begins to cut away. Had the circumstances been different, this would have aroused him. Emerald - an admittedly attractive alien beauty - playing with his belt, removing his pants, getting him naked on her coffee table…

But, right now, he can’t find it in himself to be aroused. Part of him still knows that Emerald will hurt him. It’s inevitable.

“You don’t have on underwear,” Emerald comments as she cuts the second trouser leg away, finally tugging the garments free from his legs, closely followed by his dirty socks.

“I couldn’t find any,” Lars says quickly. He’s trying to maintain his composure, but he feels embarrassed and exposed. Emerald is his enemy. She’s lithe and well-muscled and strong, while he’s skinny bordering on malnourished, each rib a prominent shape beneath pink skin, and visibly the weaker of the two of them. Everything about his body that he’s always been so acutely self-conscious of is on display before her - and she’s eying him up the way a hungry predator gazes at its prey. But, she can’t settle for just looking. She has to touch him, too.

Emerald sets the scissors aside - back into the box and out of his reach - and procures a thermometer.

Lars’ eyes widen. “That better not be going where I think it’s going!”

Snorting, Emerald laughs, cupping his jaw. “No, Off-Color. There will be plenty of things going in your anus later, but I promise this isn’t one of them. Open.”

“W-Wait, what do you mean there will be things going in my - gah, don’t call it that!”

Emerald shoves the thermometer in his mouth while it’s open, cupping his jaw to keep it closed. “Isn’t it obvious, Off-Color? I’ve not brought you here to torture and hurt you, the way you seem to think I have. I’ve brought you here because...well, I want to keep you,” she informs him, removing the thermometer when it beeps and nodding agreeably as she reads his temperature, then smirking delightedly as she pokes him in the nose, “I’m going to keep you as my adorable little pet.”

“Pet?!” Lars is outraged, scrambling away from her, “I’m not some plaything, lady! I’m not going to be your pet. I would rather you just kill me!”

Emerald smirks. “You don’t mean that. You’ve already cheated death once, haven’t you, Off-Color? You know you won’t be so lucky next time.”

Lars huffs.

“Besides...you want your crew to remain safe, don’t you?” Emerald grins devilishly, watching the color drain from his face. “That’s what I thought. Now, back on the table.”

Reluctantly, Lars returns to the coffee table, where Emerald immediately begins massaging his shoulders, then running her palms over his back - checking for abnormalities, apparently.

“You’re quite thin,” Emerald comments, “You must not eat well. We’ll change that.”

Lars huffs. Emerald smiles, amused, and continues with her examination, running her fingers over his backside - an attractive bubble butt, she thinks to herself - and down his legs, checking his joints and feet.

“You seem to be in good health,” she informs him, “Now, roll over. I need to examine your abdomen.”

Lars hesitates. Then, humiliated, he shifts onto his back, now even more exposed to her. But, Emerald’s hands are soft and tender, pressing gently on his abdomen and gauging his face for reactions that might suggest he’s in pain.

“Nothing to suggest you’re expecting any major organ failure anytime soon,” Emerald notes, then arrives at his genitals. Blood rushes to his face when she suddenly whistles. “Wow, I wasn’t expecting such impressive equipment on a human!”

Blushing, Lars rolls back onto his stomach. “E-Enough! You did your stupid exam! Now leave me alone!”

Emerald chuckles, then ruffles his hair. “Okay, okay. Don’t panic so much, the stress will complicate your blood pressure and cardiovascular function.”

She collects the ruined remains of his captain’s clothing from the floor and discards them, then retrieves one last item from the box, presenting it to him.

It’s a collar. Its leather, green in color, lined with soft beige material. There’s an o-ring for a leash beside the metallic buckle, from which a skull-shaped tag engraved with his name in neat block letters dangles.

Lars swallows. “You want me to wear a collar.”

“It’s comfortable,” Emerald tells him, “and I think it will look quite handsome on you, hmm?”

He grits his teeth. “Fine.”

Carefully, Emerald unbuckles the collar, then loops it around his neck, checks the fit, and fastens it. The material that lines the leather is soft on his skin, but the collar itself is a presence that he isn’t used to around his neck. It’ll take time to adjust to it. He doesn’t like it one bit.

“Good boy,” Emerald coos at him, in the most degrading way possible, and he feels his heart swell with shame, “Lars belongs to Emerald now.”

She cups his jaw, guiding his gaze up to meet hers. She’s smirking delightedly, relishing in the way he’s hanging his head and slouching his shoulders in delicious submissive shame. “Say it.”

He sighs. “Lars belongs to Emerald now.”

“Good boy!” Emerald praises him, running her fingers through his hair, “I have to say, I’m surprised you’re such a good listener. Impressive.”

“Hmph,” Lars retorts.

“Now, someone must be hungry, hmm?” she prompts, walking away. One corner of her chambers houses some sort of kitchenette, though it’s little more than a marble countertop and sink attached to what he assumes is a small fridge and a microwave. It’s strange, seeing vaguely familiar technology on Homeworld, things that at least serve a similar purpose to the gadgets and gizmos he once used on earth. But he supposes that the private lives of high-class gems like Emerald must not be too different from the lives of humans, albeit a bit more luxurious. Emerald has a bed, too, after all.

But he suspects it isn’t for sleeping in.

Emerald returns with two porcelain bowls, which she places on the coffee table in front of him. One is filled with water. The other is filled with...he isn’t sure, actually. Pieces of what he assumes is some type of fruit, cut into eerily geometric cubes.

“Eat,” Emerald tells him, but Lars only scoffs at her.

“This is it?” he remarks, “One cut-up piece of fruit and a bowl of water?” He hasn’t needed to eat since his resurrection, of course, but he doesn’t tell her that. If she’s going to hold him hostage as her plaything, he’s at least going to make her life as hard as possible while he can.

“What? I thought this is what humans ate!” Emerald replies incredulously, plucking a piece of fruit from the bowl and holding it close to his face, “Here! Yummy, yummy.”

Lars looks at her, then turns his head away.

Immediately, Emerald panics. “Oh stars, you’re not eating. This must not be the right kind of food. You at least like the water, right?” She offers him the bowl, but he turns his head away from it, too.

Before Lars can say more, Emerald is pulling up her private communicator and phoning someone. She paces back and forth angrily as she snarls at someone on the other line. “Agate! I was told this was a proper diet that would meet the nutritional requirements of a human! He won’t eat it!”

Lars can hear whatever unfortunate soul is on the other line babbling aimlessly while Emerald scolds them, vaguely amused at how easily worked up she is. While she’s distracted, he takes a piece of the fruit and places it in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. It’s weird. Vaguely sweet. Strangely chewy. It seems synthetic, like something grown in a lab. Like something someone who had never tasted fruit would think fruit tastes like.

“You are incompetent,” Emerald remarks to whoever she’s in communication with, then closes the line and immediately opens another, “Yes, Citrine! I need a favor.”

Emerald’s voice isn’t as hard to listen to when she isn’t angry, but he swears it rises three whole octaves when she’s mad and becomes so gratingly, irritatingly nasally that he can’t bear to listen to it, so he rolls his eyes and drowns her out in the background while he eats a few more pieces of fruit. He doesn’t like it, the texture is too weird and it tastes too artificial, but now that’s so worked up about him not eating it, he’s going to eat it out of spite.

Finally, Emerald hangs up and ventures back over to him, stomping in heavy heeled boots. “Don’t worry, pet, I’ve requested that something else be brought to fulfill your nutritional ne - ,” she stops when she notices the empty bowl, “Oh. You ate it.”

Lars expects her to shout at him or throw another one of her fits, but she doesn’t, instead nudging the water bowl towards him, its contents sloshing up its sides precariously. “Here, humans need water,” she insists.

“Okay,” Lars agrees, “but I want it in a cup.”

“You are a pet,” she reminds him, “Pets drink out of bowls.”

She offers him the water bowl once more and he turns his nose up at it, tipping his chin back and wrinkling the bridge of his nose as if in disgust. “Not this pet,” he informs her very matter-of-factly.

Emerald scoffs. “You have some nerve, Off-Color. All the trouble I went through to spare your life, after you publicly humiliated me, stripped me of my title, and caused me to lose the respect of my Diamonds, and you’re not even grateful. I could have let them have you, you know. Maybe the Diamonds would’ve thrown you into one of their torture chambers to be sliced up and left to rot. I’m giving you a second chance, and you have the nerve to try to tell me what you will and won’t do. You belong to me now, pet. You said it yourself.”

Lars rolls his eyes. “Forgive me for being less than enthusiastic, lady.”

“So, you’re insubordinate,” Emerald comments, then grins in that dangerous way of hers and he knows right away that he’s messed up, “It seems a training session is in order, hmm?”

Emerald rises from the sofa. She takes the empty bowl with her, but leaves the water bowl. When she returns, she’s dangling a leash - a leather lead that matches the collar around his neck, right down to being intricately embroidered with his name in the same neat block letters - in one hand, grinning maliciously.

She clips the leash to his collar, then snaps once and points down. “All fours.”

Lars decides to humor her, in part because he’s afraid to disobey her, still not entirely certain that she isn’t set on hurting or torturing him, and in part because he’s curious. He hates that he’s curious, but he is, so he slides off the sofa and into the floor, positioning himself on all fours. The clothing she promised before she cut his off still hasn’t been given to him, so he’s stark naked, embarrassed and exposed and absolutely morbidly intrigued.

“Good,” Emerald comments, then takes several steps backwards, as far as his short lead will let her, “Pet, come here.”

Moving on his hands and knees is awkward and uncomfortable. His shins are cold on the smooth marble tiles that grazes against his kneecaps as he edges forward, acutely aware that his cock and balls are swaying quite a bit between his legs and feeling that he must look absolutely silly. It feels like it takes him decades to reach her, the few seconds that pass lengthy and silent.

“Good!” Emerald praises him, rewarding him with a gentle stroke of his hair, which she finds to be pleasingly fluffy and curly and soft, “Now, sit down.”

Lars settles back on his hips, sitting on his knees, in part because the marble tile is unpleasantly cold and in part because he doesn’t want to put himself completely on display. Still, his cock sets neatly atop his thighs and he has to glance away when he feels her eye on him, blushing softly as he senses her gaze.

“Good,” she repeats, then reaches out to not only stroke his hair, but down the length of his neck, her clawed fingertips dancing ticklishly along his nape. He shudders and, this time, it’s not because her chambers are cold.

“Hmm…” Emerald pauses to contemplate what command to give him next, then grins, tugging on his leash gently and guiding him back over to the sofa. She sits down, then pats the place beside her. “Up.”

Getting back on the sofa from his place in the floor is an unexpected challenge. Lars clambers onto the couch ungracefully, then plops down unceremoniously, his body laying longways with his head towards her.

“We’ll work on your form,” she tells him, chuckling, “or perhaps it will come to you naturally, the longer you live with me. Now, you’re already laying down, so why don’t you roll over?”

Lars bites his lip. He had elected to lie on his stomach because he wants to conceal his hardening erection. She’s getting him worked up entirely too easily, but he doesn’t want her to know that, not at all.

Emerald tightens her hold on his leash, tugging gently. “Pet, I said roll over.”  
Lars swallows hard and shifts onto his side, then finally onto his back. His cock twitches as if to announce itself, pulsing slowly to half-hardness.

Smirking, Emerald narrows her one green eye at him. “Aww, is someone excited already? See, Off-Color, we can get along when we try.”

Lars blushes.

She threads her fingers through his hair, smirking faintly. “You’re quiet. It’s not like you. I would like it if you talked to me.”

“Funny,” he scoffs, “You usually can’t wait for me to shut up.”

“True, but this is different,” Emerald replies, coiling a pastel pink curl around a long thin finger. She lifts his head and carefully places it in her lap, then resumes playing with his hair, her fingertips occasionally tickling behind his ears and along the back of his neck. He feels his cock twitch when she scratches along his nape, finding a particularly good spot.

He watches her face and doesn’t miss how she glances down his body from the corner of her one green eye. Her lip trembles. She almost blushes, but it’s hard to tell from this angle, peering up at her from underneath, the lights casting her face in stark shadow.

“You’re big,” Emerald comments after awhile, idly playing with his curls.

“Thanks,” Lars replies awkwardly, “I think.”

Emerald strokes his hair for a few moments more before she scratches her fingers slowly along the backside of his neck and out the width of his shoulder, then back again, until she finds that especially good spot that makes him shiver at her touch, smirking softly as she strokes it. His cock pulses, gradually twitching to its modest full size.

“You enjoy petting, hmm?” she teases him, then her lips part in a big toothy grin, “How about heavy petting?”

Lars blushes, pink cheeks growing pinker. He shouldn’t. He knows that he really, really shouldn’t. But, if he’s trapped here as her plaything, he might as well reap the rewards of his newfound position as her pet, and he can’t deny that Emerald has evidently gifted fingers, if the tender touches on his neck were any indication. So, even as the alarm bells in the back of his mind sound, he nods. “Yeah. Okay.”

Emerald doesn’t hesitate, her slender fingers wrapping delicately around his generous shaft, just behind the sweltering head that’s already shiny wet with pre, a clear bead hanging from its underside. One sharp fang worries away at her plump lower lip as she circles her thumb around the head of his cock, spreading its wetness and finding it to be warm and slightly sticky. Lars’ breath catches in his throat at those first few touches, his head flopping down in the soft cushion of her lap as he slowly relaxes and gives in to her touch.

He was right about her having gifted fingers.

Emerald’s other hand holds tightly to his lead, which hangs slack in-between them, while she massages his cock, gradually moving away from the head to glide her palm slowly along the shaft, the soft outer skin shifting with her movements around the rigid inner core. She strokes him down to the base, where she pauses to pet his pubic hair, finding it to be curly and pink, too, before returning to the head to repeat her smooth downward stroke. This time, his head is much wetter, pre bubbling up from its slit and oozing steadily down the underside of his cock, where it’s swept away by her stroking fingers.

“Feels nice, doesn’t it?” Emerald all but coos, then moves away from his cock to instead carefully cup his balls, weighing them in the palm of her hand before she gives them a gentle squeeze and sweeps her fingers back up to his cock to stroke yet again down his thick shaft. Lars is bigger than she ever anticipated, a staggering eleven inches, which unknown to her had ruined his sex life back on earth, too intimidating for most human women. But, his size only excites her, knowing that he’ll fill her up nicely when the time comes. The thought causes a pleasant stirring in her own depths, and she fidgets a little in her seat as she feels her underwear growing unexpectedly wet in anticipation.

Lars inhales deeply. He can smell her. He doesn’t know if he happens to have a sensitive nose or if Emerald just smells particularly strong, but he can smell her. It isn’t bitter or fishy, the way a human might be, but musky and faintly sour and entirely too tantalizing. He grins delightedly, taunting her, “You’re horny.”

Emerald squeezes his balls, then resumes stroking lightly. “So what if I am?”

“Jeez, I thought I got worked up easily,” he chuckles, before she squeezes his shaft in a way that makes his breath catch in his throat, bordering just on but not quite pain, sending shockwaves of pleasure up his spine, “Emerald, I’m gonna come…”

“Good, I want you to come,” Emerald purrs, smirking devilishly when she sees how his brows furrow and his nose wrinkles and his mouth pops open in a little O of voiceless delight when she strokes his cock a certain way, “I like how my pet gives me control, so I can make him come. I like how good and obedient he is, he’s such a good boy. I like his big, fat cock and I bet I’m going to like it even more when it comes all over my fingers. Are you going to come for me, pet? Does my cute little human need to come?”

Emerald squeezes his cock and Lars comes with a ragged moan that trails off in a shrill whine. Emerald’s hand feels nice, but there’s something else about it, too, some aspect of the shame and the humiliation and the embarrassment that he feels that gets him off. His eyes squeeze close beneath furrowed brows and his face flushes bright magenta as he unloads all over her hand, sticky semen oozing thickly between her slender fingers. She strokes him even through his orgasm, gentle and gradual, helping him come down from it slowly, until she feels him go limp in her lap with a whimper.

Giggling, Emerald releases his shaft. He opens his eyes and watches as she brings her come-covered fingers to her mouth, meticulously sucking each digit clean and smacking her lips entirely too loudly. His face was already uncomfortably warm, but watching her work her tongue between those smooth cushy lips, he feels it growing ever warmer.

Lars is too embarrassed to speak to her for awhile. Emerald doesn’t press him, humming softly as she strokes his hair (with the hand that hadn’t been covered in come a few moments prior, fortunately), as if she’s in a very good mood. Finally, with a slow exhalation, he confesses, “That was hot.”

Emerald smirks, amused. “And that isn’t all we can do, either.”

Lars knows what she means, but he wants to hear her say it, so, cautiously, he prompts, “It’s not?”

“No,” Emerald replies, twirling his hair around her fingers again, “My pet will have privileges here. Your primary purpose here is to serve and entertain me, but there might be times when I want to...give you a reward, hmm? How does a nice juicy blowjob sound?”

He feels his cock twitch with renewed vigor. “I wouldn’t say no to that.”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t,” Emerald chuckles, then moves his head from her lap and rises, “but, you’ll have to earn it first.”

Lars’ face falls. “Earn it?”

“Yes, like I said, your primary purpose here is to entertain me,” she reminds him, smiling faintly, “I’m an important gem, pet. I’m very busy. I don’t have time to entertain suitors, so I need...a sex toy. Something I can turn on and off. Something that will satisfy me no matter what. That’s where you come in, hmm? You’ll have exclusive access to your new mistress. Think you have what it takes to please her?”

He swallows hard. “Y-Yes, ma’am.”

“Oh, I like the sound of that,” she chuckles, “Obedient already. I think you’re going to make a wonderful pet, Off-Color.”

There’s a beeping noise. Someone is at the door. Emerald goes to answer it, musing quietly as she goes, “A wonderful pet, indeed.”


	2. Chapter 2

There’s a citrine soldier at the door, but she doesn’t stay. Emerald accepts a parcel from her, then sends her away, returning to the seating area where Lars lounges lazily on the sofa, spent from his recent sexual release, and sitting down beside him. He watches her warily from the corner of one eye, mostly certain now that she doesn’t intend to hurt him, but still rightfully cautious. The package she’s slitting open with a sharp fingernail is opaque; he can’t see what’s inside, and that makes him nervous.

Then, to his surprise, Emerald presents him with a package of...what looks almost exactly like a prepackaged piece of meat from a supermarket, securely sealed in airtight plastic. Its reddish, still fresh. He doubts it came from earth.

“Is this the right type of food?” Emerald asks him, exasperated.

Lars cocks a brow at her, sitting upright to take the package from her and examine it closely. “Depends. What is it?”

“It’s...the meat of some beast. I don’t know precisely what,” Emerald replies after a moment of hesitation, “I’m afraid I couldn’t have food brought in from earth on such short notice, so this will have to do for now. I sent the citrines to a nearby colony where organic life exists and had them find food for you. It was a great deal of trouble for us all. I hope you’re happy.”

“You’re sure it’s edible?” Lars asks, “Not from some poisonous alien monster?”

“The colony natives were able to eat it well enough, I’m sure you can, too,” Emerald informs him as she sets the package down on the sofa cushion in-between them and rises, “I think you’ll find the rest of it quite acceptable, too. Plenty of proteins and fats and sugars and all the weird little things you organics need to live. And a heating unit and assorted receptacles for you to cook it in, too, because I’m well aware your kind is picky and won’t just eat it raw.”

Part of Lars is appreciative of the trouble she went through to procure something resembling groceries for him. Part of him is reluctant to eat any of it without knowing precisely what it is, well aware that an alien race able to safely consume it might be drastically biologically different from him. And part of him takes careful notice of how Emerald says that the alien race in question was able to eat it. Past-tense. He doesn’t have to guess twice to know what likely happened to them.

He decides not to dwell on it. Whatever happened to them must have happened centuries ago, and he knows he can’t help them now, so he rummages through the grocery parcel for awhile before rising to fix himself something more suitable than strange artificial fruit to eat. There are eggs from what must have been an exceptionally large bird and a few plump, rubbery, reddish fruits that remind him of peppers. An omelette it is.

It takes him awhile to sort out how to use the heating element Emerald had supplied him with. It’s cordless, convenient, and heats up quite quickly and, soon, he’s cooking over it peacefully, the familiar motions and aromatic smells almost enough to make him forget the situation he’s currently in, until he glances up and sees Emerald at her work station nearby, five glowering yellow screens levitating around her as she strokes away at a futuristic keyboard thoughtfully.

Lars eats. The warmth and weight of the food in his stomach comforts him. He tries to clean up, but doesn’t know what to do with his dirty dishes, so he leaves them in the floor with the heating element and quietly returns to the sofa. The porcelain dish of water sits stagnant on the coffee table.

He hesitates, then calls out, “Emerald…?”

“Yes, pet?” Emerald doesn’t so much as glance away from her screens to address him.

“I’m thirsty.”

“There’s water in your bowl, isn’t there?” Emerald asks.

“Yeah, but it’s hot. Humans like fresh water.”

“Oh,” she remarks, as if genuinely surprised, then reluctantly rises from her station and retrieves the dish. She returns it a moment later, full of fresh, cold water. “Here you go, pet. Is this better?”

Lars looks at her disdainfully. “Can’t I have a cup?”

“What’s a cup?”

“You know, what humans drink from? Like...a taller, skinnier bowl?” Lars tries to elaborate.

Emerald raises a brow. “You don’t like this receptacle because it’s...too wide? It holds liquid precisely as well as any other.”

Lars frowns. She does have a point. “Fine.”

“Good boy,” Emerald tells him, then pats him on the head and walks away, returning to her work area and quickly resuming typing.

Lars isn’t so into his new role as pet that he wants to lap from the bowl like an animal, so he holds it in both hands and tips it towards his lips to sip from it, trying hard not to spill anything. The last thing he wants is for Emerald to scold him for making a mess - or accuse him of peeing on the carpet, god forbid. He drinks his fill, sets the bowl back down, and leans back into the sofa, where he’s promptly faced with his next dilemma.

He sits there in silence for awhile. An hour, perhaps. Then, with an exasperated sigh, he flops down on his back on the sofa and whines, “Emerald?”

“Yes, pet?” she calls back from across the room.

“I’m bored,” Lars tells her.

“Take a nap,” Emerald suggests.

Lars frowns up at the ceiling. “I’m not tired. There’s nothing to do here.”

“It isn’t my job to entertain you,” she tells him.

Lars looks around. The kitchenette is mostly empty; Emerald must have moved his dirty dishes to the sink when she fetched him fresh water, he notes. Then, there’s the bed, as oversized and overstated as he would expect from Emerald. It’s littered with two dozen plump pillows; what was that he read back on earth about people who slept with more pillows being more lonely? There’s an empty door frame in the far wall, which he hopes is the entrance to a bathroom. But, other than the three sofas, the coffee table, and Emerald’s work area, there isn’t much more. If he focuses, he can hear the whoosh and whir of the cooling systems behind the walls, but he mostly on hears her typing. It seems loud.

Then, his eyes settle on the bowl of water on the coffee table, now only half full. Grinning, he looks over at Emerald, clears his throat, and swats it off. It promptly shatters on the tiles.

Emerald looks at him, instantly furious. “Excuse me?”

Lars grins. “Don’t you know that bored pets always get into trouble?”

“I cannot believe you,” Emerald says with a shake of her head. She rises from her chair, plucking his leather lead from its hook nearby, and comes towards him with the gait of someone who isn’t entirely happy.

But, this time, Lars isn’t too afraid. She could still hurt him. That could still ultimately be her plan, to lower his guard and then attack him when he was least likely to fight back. But, he doesn’t think she will. So, he simply lays on his back on the sofa, grins infuriatingly, and tries to look as endearing as possible.

Emerald snatches him up by the collar, dangling him in the air precariously for a moment before she clips his leash on and sets him down less than gently on the floor. “I’ll give you something to do, you pesky pet,” she growls, stooping to tie his leash around the nearest leg of the coffee table in a hasty half-assed knot.

“Oh, yeah? And what’s that?” Lars prompts, grinning, “Man, I hope it’s you. All this talk of being your pet really got me thinkin’, Emmy. About how much I would love to have you underneath me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Emerald scoffs, “Wait here.”

Her heels click briskly on the tiles as she walks away, but she isn’t gone for long. She announces her return by dropping a thick, black silicone cock on the table, where it bounces and wobbles for a moment before the suction cup at its base sticks tight to the smooth surface. “Suck.”

Lars swallows. “You’re...not honestly going to use this on me, are you?”

“I said suck,” Emerald repeats with just enough of a growl in her voice to convince him. His lips part around the smooth silicone head as he takes it into his mouth, glancing back at her as he slowly pushes half the shaft past his teeth. Finally, it’s her turn to smirk, drumming clawed fingertips against his bare backside as she watches him press his mouth down to the toy’s base. “Somebody’s done this before.”

Lars whimpers faintly around the silicone shaft, beginning to bob back and forth on it and letting it pop out of his mouth in surprise only when he feels Emerald’s thumb on his anus, rubbing lightly at the tender entrance. “H - Hey!”

“Don’t worry, pet,” Emerald coos, grinning, “I’ll be gentle. More gentle than you deserve.”

He hears the squirting sound of something being squeezed from a bottle or tube and is immediately relieved. Oh, thank the stars. She’s generous enough to at least use lube - but, it doesn’t stop him from flinching slightly when he feels her fingers trace the outline of his anus. He’s sensitive. It’s been awhile.

“You’re attractive,” Emerald coos, shape-shifting the snaggly claws off of the fingers of both hands before she presses two digits a bit firmer against the ring of muscle, feeling its resistance, “I knew the moment I saw you that I wanted you for my own.”

“What a sentiment,” Lars remarks, but his snark is cut short when he feels her fingers quite suddenly push into him, his anus flickering and fluttering as he bites down harder than anticipated on his lower lip, nearly drawing blood, “A - Ah…”

“Shh…,” she quietens him, “I’ll be nice and wait a moment.”

Lars inhales unsteadily. Just the tease of the dildo in his mouth and one thrust of Emerald’s long, slim fingers in his anus were enough to get him halfway hard, his cock twitching to life eagerly between his slender thighs. His entire hide is prickled with gooseflesh, and not because the chambers are cold. He feels on edge, absolutely electric.

He looks back at her over his shoulder. “Puppy wants to play.”

Emerald smirks. “Hmm?”

“Move, I want you to move,” he whispers urgently and, grinning not entirely kindly, Emerald obliges, her knuckles flexing lightly inside of him as she starts to twitch her fingers back and forth, stretching his opening just a bit wider. He feels his cock throb, getting steadily harder. “You can move faster. I can take it.”

“I’ll move as fast as I want, when I want,” Emerald reminds him, “I’m your mistress. I own you.”

“You own me,” Lars sighs happily, propping his crossed arms and chin on the coffee table, the tension slowly draining from his body as he relaxes. Emerald knows what she’s doing. Her fingers feel practiced, knowledgeable.

She fingers him for a few minutes more, then prompts, “Does my pet want to play with his toy now?”

Lars opens his eyes, not altogether realizing that he had closed them. He frowns as Emerald’s fingers start to slow, arching his back into her retreating touch in a quiet request for more. “C’mon, keep going…,” he pants softly, his cock aching sweetly underneath him. He’s so hard that it almost hurts.

Emerald’s fingers slow even more. He keens with a whine. “I asked you a question, pet.”

Lars had almost forgotten about the silicone dildo on the table, where it sticks forgotten by its suction cup, spotty-damp with saliva. “I...I want you instead.”

For whatever reason, this seems to catch her off-guard. “You what?”

“You can shape-shift, can’t you?” Lars demands, his voice pitchy and irritable as her fingers slowly retreat from his ass with a comical wet pop, “C’mon, shape-shift a nice, big cock and fuck me. That’s what you brought me here for, right? To fuck me?”

Emerald stares at him, startled. But, he can see in her one green eye that she’s considering it. Maybe he needs to convince her.

One sharp tug and his leash comes undone from the table leg. He wastes no time in grabbing it and placing it between his teeth, a length of lead dangling from either side of his mouth as he shifts onto his knees, planting his hands firmly on the tabletop with his backside on prominent display and giving her what he hopes is a very sultry stare over his shoulder.

Lars sees the exact moment when he’s won, when only the tip of Emerald’s green tongue glides over her trembling lower lip. He smirks and wiggles his eyebrows at her infuriatingly as she takes his leash from his mouth, giving it a sharp tug. “Fine. We’ll play, pet. But, then you have to clean up your mess, lay down, and be quiet while I finish my work.”

Lars nods, then winces in surprise when Emerald tugs on his leash almost hard enough to jerk him to the floor, steadying himself before he hits the tiles. Giving her a sideways glare, he settles onto all fours like he knows she wants, then follows her a few feet from the coffee table, where she promptly stops and gestures for him to turn around. Why she wants him in a clear space in the middle of the room, he isn’t sure, but he suspects it’s because she doesn’t want either of them to hit their head or limbs on the furniture while she fucks him.

Lars watches Emerald’s gestures, then turns around like a trained animal and presents her with his rather shapely hindquarters. He has feminine hips - and a cute butt, he had been told by more than one fun and flirty one-night-stand back in Beach City. He hopes she thinks so, too.  
“Cute,” Emerald comments, just as he anticipated, as she spreads his buttocks with both hands, one of them clutching the other end of his leash.

He glances over his shoulder, grinning teasingly. “You gonna fuck me?”

“You know I am,” she tells him, “You ready?”

“I was ready yesterday,” Lars purrs, canting his hips in a way that he hopes is sexy. It must be, because Emerald licks her chops like a hungry cat and, in a flash of white light, shape-shifts herself a stiff, slender cock that looks less like a human phallus and more like an advertisement for a monster-themed sex toy website. “Wow. Interesting shape. You didn’t strike me as the creative type.”

“Just shut up and enjoy my cock,” Emerald coos, then presses the pointed head to his entrance. Lars’ anus flutters in anticipation and he braces himself for impact, gritting his teeth only slightly as she slides smoothly into his ass, pushing in nice and deep until her hips press flush to his backside and she’s hilted inside him.

“Mmm…,” he almost whines, worrying on his lower lip lightly as he closes his eyes and savors the electric sensation of Emerald’s cock twitching faintly in the tight column of his ass, “Feels good, baby.”

Grinning, Emerald tugs on his leash lightly, clutching his hip with her other hand to hold him steady as she pulls back, her cock head nearly popping free from the tight ring of muscle, before she thrusts back in hard. He yelps, a shockwave raking up his spine, fingers curling against the tiles and finding absolutely nothing to hold onto.

“You bet your tight little ass it feels good,” Emerald purrs, grinning delightedly as she watches his face twist and contort with pleasure while she fucks him, relishing in how his brows tightly knit together, then relax, then furrow again and the way he wrinkles his nose and bites his lip and squeezes his eyes closed when she hits a particularly good spot. She’s impressed with how much he can take already, though she would never admit it out loud, and it makes her wonder exactly what he’s capable of, as she takes up a steady rhythm of thrusting in and out of his ass, growing faster and faster until her hips are slapping against his and he’s keening with moan after moan after moan.

“Fuck...Lars…,” Emerald snarls between clenched teeth as she yanks so hard on his leash that his torso is jerked back towards her, his hands clutching feebly at the collar around his throat as his mouth snaps open in an overstimulated moan and his cock bounces with the force of his orgasm, rope after rope of creamy thick come splattering like abstract art across the marble tiles. Panting, Lars settles back onto his hands and knees, one palm slipping in a puddle of his own semen, as her hold on his leash slackens, closing his eyes and letting his tongue loll from his mouth like a dog’s as he feels the sticky warmth of her come flooding his ass.

For a moment, it’s mostly quiet. There are only the background noises of the cooling systems and fans behind the walls and faraway footsteps echoing outside in the hall and the sounds of their panting. Lars’ ass doesn’t feel sore - not yet - but his neck does, marred with a raw red mark where Emerald had pulled the collar too tight against his skin. But mostly, he just feels tired. Tired and satisfied.

“Don’t pull so hard next time,” Lars tells her, “but, otherwise, that was a great fuck. I haven’t came that hard in a long time. Felt fantastic.”

Emerald smirks, her breasts rising and falling quickly as she struggles to catch her breath. “Felt to me like you haven’t came in a long time, period.”

Lars huffs. “I’ve been busy.”

“And not in a good way,” Emerald chuckles, then tentatively pulls herself out of his ass. Her cock flops, slapping wetly against her thighs and splattering them with her own watery come. Immediately, she shape-shifts it away, to return another time when she needs it. “Wow. Good boy…”

There are pinkish-red bruises spreading across Lars’ right buttock, where Emerald had held onto him a bit too tightly, and his ass is dripping with her come, but she can’t imagine a better look for him as she leans down and unclips his leash, patting him lightly on the ass as she leaves him without so much as another sideways glance.

“Run and play, pet. I have work to do.”


	3. Chapter 3

Emerald returns to her work station while Lars cleans up the aftermath of their heated encounter. He's beginning to feel it now, the tired twitch of his much abused anus and the stinging of fresh bruises rising on his raw backside. The underside of his throat hurts the most, rubbed raw from the leather of his newly donned collar where Emerald had pulled it up against his skin a bit too tightly. But, he tries his best to ignore the after-sex aches as he mops up scattered puddles and smears of his own semen with a wet washcloth, then sweeps up the shattered pieces of what was his water bowl with the handheld vacuum Emerald had given him. When he's done, he crawls back onto the sofa, lays down, and rests, listening to the faint hum of the cooling systems behind the walls and the rhythmic stroke of Emerald's claws on the keyboard.

Lars doesn't realize the rhythm of her typing has lulled him to sleep until he's blinking awake in a now much dimmer chamber, Emerald's fingers threading through his hair lightly to wake him. He lifts his head and blinks at her blearily.

A faint smile pricks at the corners of Emerald's lips. "Have a good nap, pet?"

"Didn't know I fell asleep," Lars comments, then looks around the chamber apprehensively before shyly turning his face up towards her and quietly prompting, "Do you have a bathroom?"

"Of course," Emerald replies, then points him in the direction of the separate room attached to her chambers in the far corner. He walks there and finds himself in an unexpectedly large bathroom, furnished precisely as any earthling's would be, if only every earthling was rich and fancy and lived in the state of luxury that Emerald did. The tiles are slick and freshly polished, cold beneath his bare toes, and lead seamlessly into a sprawling marble bathtub with a golden faucet and drain. But, for all its exaggerated, overstated luxury, it's still such a familiar sight that Lars has to wonder how different Homeworld and the earth really are. So far, Homeworld has seemed like little more than a fancier version of earth, rather than an advanced alien society that had, centuries before his great-great-great ancestors were ever conceived, nearly destroyed the planet. It's quite frankly disappointing.

Emerald is getting undressed when Lars returns to the main chamber. She's stripped down to her bodysuit when he emerges from the bathroom and promptly stops and stares. She looks different without the exaggerated shoulder pads, the knee-length boots with daggers for heels, the cape. His lip twitches at the sight of the thin black fabric clinging tightly to her curves, her breasts modest but her hips huge, beautifully defined buttocks bulging in hip-hugging spandex that shimmers faintly in the low lights. Sure, he had seen her naked a few hours earlier, but he had been distracted. And she had been behind him almost the entire time.

"You should dress like this all the time," he comments.

Emerald chuckles. "You would like that, wouldn't you, pet?"

"You know it," he says, narrowly resisting the urge to grab two handfuls of that luscious ass and squeeze. But, he doesn't imagine that would go over well with Emerald, even if she had rutted him in the ass just a few hours prior.

"You ready?" Emerald asks, out of the blue.

Lars looks at her. "For what?"

"Bathtime," she tells him, "Didn't I mention that my pet has to be bathed daily? I can't have a dirty animal in my chambers. What would the citrines think?"

"I don't think the citrines think about much of anything," Lars comments. This unexpectedly earns him a chuckle from Emerald.

"You're right, but it isn't the citrines I'm worried about," she informs him, then waves him back towards the bathroom. He goes willingly, mostly because a bath sounds like another opportunity to see Emerald naked - and maybe a chance for something even sexier, too. He's so caught up in the fantasies he's quickly conjured up of mounting his mistress from behind, burying his nose in the warm folds of her pussy, and getting his hard cock stroked between her warm soft hands that he doesn't question who it is she's actually worried about.

Emerald notices his perky cock and chuckles. "My pet is so horny. You know, I almost picked the sapphire instead of you. But I can see now that I've made the right choice."

This gets his attention. "The sapphire? You mean Paddy?"

"Paddy? Is that what you've taken to calling her?" Emerald asks as she bends over the edge of the marble bathtub, carefully plugging the drain and starting the water, then checking that the temperature is just right.

"Yeah. Paddy." Lars is momentarily distracted by the sight of her ass bulging in her spandex jumpsuit as she bends over the tub, but refocuses quickly. "Is she...okay?"

"Your crew is fine, pet. I've made sure of it," she reassures him, checking the water again, then snapping her fingers at him and pointing to the rising water, "Get in."

Lars obediently steps into the bathtub. The water is almost too hot, the nearby mirror foggy with steam already, but it feels nice on his sore backside, immediately easing the ache as he sits down before her. "Where are they?"

"I can't tell you that, pet," Emerald says, "At least, not yet. I'll tell you someday. But I have to trust you first and, with all the ways you've deceived me in the past, that's going to be very, very difficult."

"But, you promise that they're safe?"

"Yes, pet. I already told you, they're safe. I'm a gem of my word." Emerald stands up straight and, in a flash of white light, her black bodysuit disappears. Underneath, her skin is a minty green, flushed darker around the chest and shoulders, smooth and creamy and soft. Lars wants to see it littered with bite marks and scratches and hickeys before tomorrow, cock perking up with interest at the thought.

He's a bit startled when Emerald steps into the bathtub and sits down in the hot water beside him. "We're...gonna bathe together?"

"My pet bathes with me," Emerald tells him, then reaches for one of the many bottles scattered around the edge of the tub, pouring a generous amount of something liquidy and vaguely yellow into the bathwater. It smells strongly of...something. Probably floral. Probably herbal. Lars can't put his finger on it, but it's rather musky and strange. It's the most alien thing he's seen today - besides Emerald's weird dick. 

"What's that?" Lars asks.

"It's a scented oil. I thought it would be fitting for my pet to smell like me." She grins, then kisses his cheek. Somehow, this throws him off more than anything else has today, an unexpectedly affectionate gesture that makes him blush magenta and squeak in surprise. Emerald makes an "aww" sound, then reaches for another bottle.

A moment later, Lars is getting his hair lathered with musky-smelling shampoo and conditioner, his back scrubbed, and his underarms washed. Emerald is attentive to detail, he notes as she washes and scrubs him, standing on all fours with the water up to his chest now. He lifts one leg when he feels her fingers trailing along the underside of his stomach, sighing softly when she rolls her fingers over his half-hard cock, washing it, too. 

"So horny," Emerald chuckles again, then moves on to washing his backside and thighs. He starts to squirm impatiently; he must be cleaner than he's ever been in his life by now. "Okay, okay, you're all done. So impatient."

Lars lounges lazily in the bath while Emerald washes herself, more interested in the way the water droplets drip down from her wet mane of hair to trail between her shoulder blades and down the smooth curve of her back than he cares to admit. She looks even better with wet hair, that wild ridiculous mane of hers drooping beneath the weight of the water and clinging to her back and shoulders in thick wet strands. His cock twitches when she rubs a sudsy sponge between her breasts, lather dripping off her perky nipples.

After what feels like a lifetime, Emerald finally rinses herself, then rises and reaches for a nearby towel. Even her towels are fancier than what he's used to, huge and puffy and plush like towels from a hotel. She dries herself off, then snaps her fingers at him and points to the floor. "Out."

Lars is sure she wants him to stay on all fours, but he isn't about to attempt to climb out of the bathtub like an animal, so he steps over the tub's edge, then kneels back down on the floor obediently. She must find this acceptable, because she doesn't scold him, immediately beginning to towel him off. She cups his cock thoughtfully through the towel as she dries it, squeezing the shaft gently. His breath catches in his throat and his hips reflexively shuffle forward, rubbing against the soft terry cloth. Then, as quickly as it came, the towel is being pulled away and Emerald is walking away from him, back into the other room.

Lars follows her. He knows she wants him to, but he doesn't walk back into the other room on all fours. It's too awkward, his legs are too much longer than his arms and his knees hit the tiles a little too roughly with every uneven step he takes. But, if she's displeased with him, she doesn't let it show, glancing back at him over her slender bare shoulder with a sultry sort of smirk and a certain seductive glimmer in her one green eye. Then, without a word, she slides into her simply enormous bed, pushing the canopy just far enough aside for him to follow her in. The sheets are soft satin, a deep emerald green, and scattered with enough pillows for half a dozen people to sleep here comfortably. Emerald props up on one of them, laying on her back with her legs spread in invitation. "Here, pet."

Gems are far more aromatic than humans, Lars discovers before he ever climbs onto the bed, perched on all fours as Emerald threads her fingers through the soft cotton candy curls of his hair. She smells sweet and musky and earthy, like a particularly flowery blend of cannabis, and the scent is strongest directly between her legs, where the outer folds of her pussy are spread delicately around a bright green core, looking as soft and cushy and welcoming as the bed they lay on. Underneath the skunky herbal smell is a touch of feminine sweat and arousal, which Lars eagerly zones in on as he gets closer to her, nostrils flaring and nose snuffling like a dog's as he nuzzles his face between her thighs and grins dizzily. It's intoxicating.

"Careful, pet. Gem pheromones are strong enough to knock an organic on their ass in ten seconds flat," Emerald chuckles, bemused. His hair is soft and fluffy between her fingers; it looks nice with its close-shaven sides, but she thinks it would look better longer. Long enough for her to braid and brush and play with. Her human is quite a handsome specimen, but he has to be absolutely beautiful if she's going to be seen with him.

Lars laughs almost drunkenly, then surprises her with a tentative lick of her clitoris. She gasps softly, her fingers tightening in his hair, and he licks her again. She has no real taste, perhaps because she had bathed just moments before or perhaps because gems didn't have much of a flavor to begin with, but he doesn't mind, the warm, wet strokes of his tongue venturing deeply between her tender folds to eventually circle around her entrance, intently seeking her hot core. His cock twitches hard between his thighs, a thick tendril of clear pre drooling heavily from its tip to drip down onto the sheets below, quickly driven to its full size by the sight and the smell of her as he burrows his tongue as far as he can into her body, making her whimper and keen.

"Good boy...," Emerald tells him, her voice pitchy with pleasure and her fingers knotted tightly in a fistful of his peachy curls, "My Lars is such a good boy, such an obedient pet, such a hungry little pussy-eater..."

Lars wishes she would shut up, but doesn't comment, his mouth preoccupied with the task at hand. His tongue glides out of her smoothly, sticky-wet with her fluids, and ventures back up to her clitoris to wet the tender bud with a mix of his saliva and her own juices. She's wetter than any human lover he's ever had, bordering on sloppy, steadily oozing a sticky puddle out onto the satin sheets. A few more sloppy slurps and she's keening with a high-pitched moan, gripping his hair so tightly that it hurts, as that tight knot of friction and pleasure comes undone in her depths and she comes. She squirts like a geyser, splattering sticky translucent juices in an impressive arch across the sheets. Lars watches it with a grin, then looks at her, cock twitching in anticipation.

Emerald's face is flushed a brilliant mossy green, her one eye hazy with post-orgasmic pleasure. Her pussy is flushed, too, bright green at its core and sloppy wet from his handiwork, outer folds spread open amidst a bush of neatly groomed pubic hair, now wet down its center. Her chest rises and falls with uneven breaths that she doesn't need to take, slowly steadying as she comes down from her high. Lars leans down and nibbles on her inner thigh, pinching the tender skin between his front teeth and making her yelp softly. She swats him on the nose with one hand gently as she sits upright, still panting softly.

"Well, that's not how I expected to spend my night, but I'm not complaining," Lars chuckles, then leans down and rubs his cheek against her inner thigh, over the spot he had bitten. It feels like he has to do it, like a compulsion, and he doesn't know why he suddenly has the urge to be so clingy-close to her, but he does. The smell of her, maybe. The pheromones or whatever she called it.

Emerald cups underneath his chin and guides his head back up, away from her delicious-smelling core, and holds it there, grinning. "You're hard as a rock, aren't you, pet?"

Lars grins back. "Sure am."

"You're enjoying this already," she coos, "You didn't even fight it. I knew you wouldn't. This is more fun than running away from armed forces in the abyss of space, hmm?"

He shrugs. "Guess so."

"You must have known I would catch you eventually," Emerald comments, "and that you would be punished when I did. But, did you ever expect such a lovely punishment?"

"Not in a million years," he retorts, "I wasn't counting on you being such a kinky bitch. I mean, keeping me around to have sex with you is weird enough - not that I'm not complaining - but you want me to be your pet. With a leash and a collar and everything!"

Emerald smirks, flashing him a glimpse of her pointed fangs. "I would say you're enjoying it."

"I never said I wasn't, but I am curious why." He makes a gesture with one hand, supporting his weight on the other. "I mean, if you were just horny, you must have suitors or something. Aren't you supposed to be a big deal here or something?"

"I am a big deal and I do have suitors, but I wanted a pet, so I found one," she tells him curtly, then shifts her weight onto one side, rolls over, and gets onto all fours. Her hips are shapely and wide and look as good bare as they did in that tight spandex jumpsuit. "We'll talk about this later. Right now, I want you to satisfy me, pet."

Lars rests a hand on her backside, feeling the shape of it and the way the muscle is taut and firm beneath the smooth green skin. She's colder than a human, cool even in her post-orgasmic state, and his palm feels unnaturally warm against her bare skin. "Your pet's name is Lars."

"I know," she says, "Now, fuck me."

"Say please," Lars teases - and is instantly yanked forward by a clawed hand on his collar, the suddenness of it startling him.

"I am in charge here," Emerald reminds him firmly, then releases her grip on his collar, "You listen to me."

Lars rubs at his neck. It's still sore from their earlier encounter, the raw red skin not appreciating her rough-handling. He thinks quickly, then suddenly slumps forward on the mattress, pawing pitifully at the collar and making a show of whimpering and whining.

Emerald's face falls instantly. "O-Oh, I hurt you, didn't I? Let me see, let me see..." Lars steadies himself for her to examine his throat, giving an exaggerated wince when she touches the raw sore skin. She coos pityingly, then carefully unfastens the collar and removes it, sitting it aside. "There, is that better? I didn't mean to hurt you, pet."

Lars grins. "I know."

"You!" Emerald squawks, but Lars only laughs. He rubs at the sore spot that encircles his neck where the collar was, but finds that it already feels much better without the leather rubbing irritatingly at it.

"That's better," he exhales in relief, then looks at her and smirks, "You wanna fuck now?"

"You are impossible," she informs him, arms crossed over her chest, "but yes."

"Get into position for me, Emmy."

This catches her off-guard. "What did you call me?"

"What? Emmy? It's short for Emerald. Like a nickname."

"I didn't give you permission to call me that," she remarks, but gets onto all fours - rather obediently, Lars thinks to himself. He might be the pet, but he hasn't completely lost control. He knows how to push Emerald's buttons, after all.

"Aww, c'mon, it just means I like you," Lars replies as he holds her hips in both hands, squeezing her love handles lightly. Does he like her? He isn't sure, but he isn't afraid of her. He certainly likes annoying her - but not as much as he likes fucking her. "Don't you want me to like you, Emmy? Your loyal little pet?"

"I suppose so," Emerald says, then trails off in an impatient whine as he glides his cock head between her pussy lips, up and down and up and down until the head is shiny wet with her slick and she's mewling pitifully. "Will you just fuck me already?"

Lars snorts. "Well, since you asked so nicely..." He pushes into her, her pussy spreading wetly around him to welcome him inside. She fits him like a glove, squeezing firmly but not tightly, slippery wet with arousal. He sighs happily at their initial contact, palms stroking her hips in gentle semi-circles as he savors the sensation. "Wow."

"What did you expect?" Emerald remarks, "I'm well-made."

"I'll say," he says, then starts to thrust. She gasps when he pushes back into her, seeking to spear her a little deeper each time, taking up a steady rhythm of in-and-out until she's panting and moaning underneath him. He moves quickly and roughly; he wants her to know that he's fucking her, not making love with her. But, he doesn't want to come too soon either; he knows she'll bitch and moan if he doesn't get her off and, for all his faults, he isn't one to leave a lady hanging.

"Fuck me," she whines, her voice pitchy and shrill, spoken through tightly gritted teeth, "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me..."

"I am, I am!" Lars squeezes her hips tighter and thrusts harder, only dimly aware of how he bares his teeth and one big vein bulges in his forehead as he squeezes his eyes closed and focuses all of his efforts on her. Over the thunder of his own heartbeat - suddenly fast again - he can distantly hear the squish and squelch of her as she leaks fluids around him, dripping wetly onto the mattress, the satin sheets growing slippery wet underneath them until they're both slipping and sliding on his hands and knees and he's gripping her neck tightly in his teeth and fucking her with everything he's got while she moans and howls like a horny animal.

Lars realizes her skin is pinched tightly between his teeth when he opens his eyes a few minutes after the hot rush of his release. He lets go immediately, frowning when he sees the raw bright green mark he's left on her skin, a distinctive semi-circle of the indents of his teeth. But, she doesn't seem to mind, grinning deliriously with her green tongue hanging out of her mouth in a wild breathless pant. He can't see her eye from this angle, but he bets it's foggy and hazy with lust again. Her body feels tight and warm and, with each rise and fall of his chest bringing his torso down just enough to touch her back, he doesn't want to pull out of her. But, all too soon, she's pulling herself out from under him to flop down on a pillow nearby, his cock slipping out of her with a comical wet pop. He falls back on his haunches, his butt landing directly in a veritable lake of her spilled juices. There's so much of it that his first thought is that she pissed herself in the heat of orgasm, but he guesses gems are just wet. Ridiculously, exaggeratedly, overzealously wet. That, or Emerald is just extremely horny.

Emerald keens softly. He looks at her, but her back is to him, laying prone on her side with her head propped up on a pillow and her skin covered in a thin sheen of shiny sweat. The smell of her is so strong now that he feels dizzy and drunk. "Oh, please, come lay with me. I can't stand being left alone after a fuck."

It's an oddly intimate sentiment, but Lars isn't opposed to it, so he crawls over to her on his trembling hands and knees and flops down beside her, close enough for her to feel his warm and for him to feel her cool. Again, he feels that strange urge to be clingy-close to her, so he drapes an arm over her waist, two fingers playing idly with her swollen clitoris as she pants and groans. He never expected to see her like this, not in a million years, but he loves it. Emerald - the great and fearsome Admiral Emerald - panting and mewling in his arms, spent from an evening of sex and practically begging him for more. It makes him feel powerful. It makes him feel wanted.

He shouldn't be thinking this way, but right now, his head is spinning too much for him to shoo the thoughts away, so he rests his chin in the crook of her shoulder and lets the rhythmic breathy sounds of her post-orgasmic panting slowly lull him to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise, bitch! Bet you thought you'd heard the last of me.

Lars sleeps dreamlessly. He doesn’t know for how long - there isn’t a single clock in Emerald’s chambers that he’s seen, and he still isn’t certain if time passes the same in space as it does on earth. He’s long since lost track of the days, the weeks, the months. Whatever, he thinks. It doesn’t matter now.

He wakes to voices.

He blinks the bleariness from his eyes, then rubs at them as he sits up tiredly, propping up on one of the many, many pillows to listen. There’s Emerald’s voice, shrill and distinct. But there’s another voice, too, one that he doesn’t recognize. It isn’t a citrine; their voices are gravelly and deep, a trait shared among all quartzes. This voice is only slightly higher, but it’s much smoother. Aristocrat, he guesses. Aristocrats have smooth, seductive voices, voices he’s overheard on hijacked calls aboard the Sun Incinerator and in soft-spoken and sultry conversations at the Cosmic Jubilee. Except Emerald. Emerald’s voice is far from smooth. It tilts and fluctuates and changes pitch and sounds nothing short of a screech when she’s angry. But he supposes it has a charm of its own - especially when she’s moaning and mewling underneath him and urgently whispering for him to stay in bed with her after sex.

His cock twitches pleasantly as the memories of the previous night come back to him. He smiles as he muses over the fact that he actually fucked Emerald - twice - before his mind refocuses on the nearby conversation.

“Isn’t it filthy?” the smooth voice asks, “It’s an organic. Organics are filthy. You’re going to contract one of their biological diseases, and then it isn’t going to be so funny to you.”

“Nonsense, only organics can contract organic diseases,” Emerald retorts, “Besides, what would it matter if I did? A gem sick with a fever could just poof and reform without it, yes?"

Lars hears a faintly bemused chuckle from the smooth voice. He wonders if he should see who it is or if he should just stay in bed. Emerald’s affairs are none of his business. He shouldn’t bother her while she has guests, he tells himself, even as he rises. The soft satin sheets fall back from his lithe body and he suddenly remembers that he’s naked.

He looks around. His collar is seated on one of the pillows, in an unspoken request for him to put it on when he woke up. The only other article of clothing he sees nearby is a plush green robe, hanging on a hook beside the entryway to the bathroom. He puts it on, then reluctantly takes the collar and loops it around his neck, where a ring of pinkish raw flesh still throbs faintly, then fastens it.

When he starts for the other room, he realizes for the first time that there’s a wall where there wasn’t one previously. The chamber had been a single open room with a small bathroom attached when he had fallen asleep last night; now, there’s a solid wall between the bed and the rest of the chamber, separating it from the three sofas, the kitchenette, and Emerald’s workstation. It’s metal and tinted glossy green, like nearly everything else in the chambers. Puzzled, he walks around it and finds himself back out in the open, where Emerald is seated across from a stranger on one of the sofas. She has her captain’s uniform on again, her legs - slender, tall legs clad in shiny yellow boots with daggers for heels - neatly crossed. There's a transparent yellow screen levitating alongside her, one of her hands lingering on it with the fingers daintily spread, as if she had been in the middle of typing something. She notices him and smiles, sending the screen away with a flick of her fingers. He blinks as it vanishes into thin air. 

“Ah, there you are, pet!” Emerald greets him, “Did you enjoy your nap?”

Lars shrugs and replies, "Sure."

"So, this is it," the smooth voice says. Lars regards the stranger for the first time. She's a gem type he doesn't recognize, with a neatly styled afro of blonde hair set atop a yellow-orange face. Her face is stern and slim, its most distinctive feature a stark black unibrow set in a tight line above her brownish-amber eyes. He looks for her gem and finds it centered in her chest; it's rectangular and emerald-cut, but golden orange instead of green. She wears the uniform of a captain, like Emerald, and looks distinctly aristocratic.

"Yes, this is him," Emerald tells her, then motions him over with one hand, patting the place beside her, "Cute, isn't he?"

"I suppose it's alright, for an organic," the stranger muses as Lars crosses the room to join them, sitting down beside Emerald, who immediately pats her lap and tells him to lie down. He does, face-down on his stomach with his torso across her lap, then lets her pet him, her slim fingers threading daintily through his curly hair.

"See? He's really quite tame," Emerald says, "He isn't a threat. Not anymore."

"It mustn't be too tame, if it had the wits to contend with an emerald," the stranger remarks, then raises a hand towards him, "May I?"

Emerald answers for him, "Yes."

Lars stiffens when the stranger touches him, her fingers scrunching through his curls, feeling their springy texture and scrutinizing their cotton candy color. She smiles after a moment, bemused. "It's soft," she remarks, "A luxury model, hmm?"

"He isn't a pearl, Hessonite. Organics don't come in luxury models," Emerald retorts. 

Hessonite, Lars muses to himself. The stranger is a hessonite. He's never heard of them, much less seen one in-person, so he concludes that their gem type must be quite rare. He hadn't seen her at the Cosmic Jubilee that he can recall, but he had only had eyes for Emerald on that night. He had to focus on her, keep her distracted while his crew acquired her ship. That had been the first time they had met. Things had certainly changed since then.

He's startled when Hessonite tilts his chin up with one finger, noticing for the first time that each digit is tipped in a sharp manicured claw, just like Emerald's. Her amber eyes bore thoughtfully down on him, burning with a smoldering fire from within. Her gaze is intense and he feels that she's staring into his very core for a moment, before she finally looks away, back to Emerald. "What do you intend to do with it, exactly?"

"Keep him," Emerald answers curtly, "He belongs to me now. The Diamonds said it themselves."

"Yes, but what function could it possibly serve? If you were so desperate for a companion, you could have just asked, dear," Hessonite says, smiling as if she's amused with herself.

"It's none of your concern," Emerald tells her, flaunting a smug grin. 

Hessonite quirks the right half of her unibrow. "Oh, so you're procreating with it? Interesting. Again, dear, if you were so desperate..."

"Sorry, Hessonite, I'm afraid I needed a lover that was actually satisfying," Emerald remarks. Lars stifles a laugh; he knows better than to openly mock an aristocrat, even with Emerald's supposed protection. Instead, he decides to salt the wound that Emerald has clearly opened, Hessonite's entire brow shifting upward and her lips parting in an o-shape of surprise, pointedly nuzzling his face between Emerald's breasts with a cocky lopsided grin of his own.

"You are, without a doubt, the worst," Hessonite finally replies after grappling with a response for several seconds too long. Her gaze ventures back to Lars, burning briefly with jealousy before she prompts, "So, you just...let it mount you? Emerald, isn't that filthy?" 

"Hessonite, I've already told you, he isn't dirty. I'm not going to catch anything from him, and he had a bath just yesterday."

"What does it eat? What if it tries to eat you?"

"He isn't going to eat me, Hessonite," Emerald retorts, rolling her eye, "Honestly. Are you, pet?"

Lars is more amused than offended. If it were him in Emerald's shoes, the other humans on earth might have similar concerns. Perhaps humans were to aliens what aliens were to humans back home, organic images from mostly fictional stories that made them seem imposing, threatening, and dangerous. He grins, then gives her a long, languid lick up the length of her neck. "Well, maybe a little."

"Oh, you're impossible," Emerald scolds him, pushing him away gently. He settles back down in her lap, eying her mischievously. She doesn't miss that familiar taunting glint in his eyes. "Behave."

"Or what? I'm in the mood to be punished," he retorts, "Your guest sounds like she's curious. I bet she wants to watch."

"That is preposterous," Hessonite remarks, offended.  
Lars smirks. "Is it, though?"

"You should know better than to talk to your superior like this, organic," Hessonite only half-snarls. She doesn't have it in her to outright scold him, eying Emerald closely, expecting the other gem to spring to his defense at a moment's notice.

Emerald watches Hessonite warily, too. Lars senses the tension between them. It had been there since he walked in, but it's growing steadily greater now. He isn't sure if he expects them to fight or fuck - or just argue, because both of them seem quite fond of arguing. But he doesn't want to risk the former, so he makes the decision for them - by promptly shifting himself backwards and shoving his face between Emerald's clothed thighs.

Emerald stiffens, growling threateningly, "Pet."

Hessonite chuckles. "It doesn't listen very well, does it? Clearly, it needs more training. Perhaps from a firmer hand."

Emerald shoves his head back, but he stubbornly replaces it, this time gliding his tongue wetly along the thin spandex fabric. The smell of her seeps through it, thick and herbal. Already, it makes his head start to swim.

"It's a bad look, when even the lowest of servants won't listen to you," Hessonite muses, then snaps her fingers sharply and stands, pointing to the place in front of her, "Come here, organic."

Lars lifts his head and looks at her, grinning lopsidedly and flashing her a mouthful of white teeth. "No."

Hessonite moves to seize him by the collar, when Emerald warns her back with a sharp rumbling growl. Startled, Hessonite looks at her and is met with the sight of furrowed brows and bared teeth. She backs down.

"He doesn't have to listen to you," Emerald warns her.

"It looks like it doesn't have to listen to you, either," Hessonite quips.

Emerald has had enough. "You know, maybe he's right. Maybe you should watch. Maybe it will finally drive home that I have everything I want, and that doesn't include you." She snaps her fingers and, in a flash, she's naked as the spandex sizzles off of her in a wave of sparkling white light, until only the boots and the crown across her forehead remain. "Pet."

Lars wastes no time in repositioning himself between her shapely thighs, intently inhaling the sharp aroma of her pussy as he spreads its delicate outer lips with the breadth of his tongue. It slides smoothly between them, gliding along on the sticky slick of her arousal. He feels Emerald cup the back of his head, fingers knotting in the pink curls of his hair. "Good boy," she says with a faint sense of urgency, "Give me some more."

Lars doesn't hesitate, less because he wants to please and satisfy Emerald and more because he dislikes Hessonite and wants to see her comeuppance. His tongue encircles the hood of her clitoris, then guides the tender bud between his lips to suck on it faintly, relishing in the way he feels her breath catch in her throat and her fingers tighten in his hair. It's been less than one full day and he already knows that she's sensitive. While his tongue works her harder, the fingers of his right hand prod lightly at her entrance. Two fingers push in without resistance and search for the most sensitive part of her. When he finds that coveted tender spot, he presses both fingers into it, massages hard, and sucks hungrily at her clit until she comes with a high-pitched keen, clutching tightly to his cotton candy curls.

Emerald pants softly. Lars' head swims with the smell of her arousal, so much thicker and heavier than the smell of a human. A gem's pheromones can knock an organic on their ass, he recalls her saying, but he doesn't care. He shoves his nose right back between her thighs and sniffs harder, snuffling like a hungry dog beneath the dinner table. But this time, she gently pushes his head away. "Enough, pet."

Lars has to shake his head to clear his senses as he withdraws, but even then, he's in a pleasant aroused haze, suddenly acutely aware of the throb between his own legs. He's hard as a rock, twitching needily, and leaking a steady dribble of pre onto the sofa cushions. It takes him a moment to realize that he's panting, chest rising and falling steadily as he gulps in deep hungry breaths of Emerald's scent. He casts a needy desperate glance up at his mistress, but she only pats him.

He doesn't remember Hessonite until she clears her throat, his gaze snapping towards her, suddenly very alert. She's sitting straighter than he remembers, with her legs tightly crossed and her hands gripping her knees through elbow-length white gloves.

Emerald melts back into the sofa cushions with a smug grin. "You see, Hessonite, he satisfies me perfectly well. And a good bit faster than you ever did, hmm?"

"You're faking it," Hessonite snorts.

"Well, I would be very good at faking it, after all that time I spent with you, but no," Emerald replies, grinning wider. Lars kneels beside her and shoves his head underneath her chin, nuzzling against her neck needily. "Oh, I've gotten him worked up now. You're going to have to excuse me, dear, my pet needs to mount me."

Hessonite rolls her eyes. "The only thing that beast is worthy of mounting is your pillow."

"I'm afraid he has better things to do, but it's in the other room if you need to borrow it," Emerald says as she cups underneath Lars' chin and draws him into a sloppy wet kiss, making much more noisy than necessary. Hessonite watches, jaw twitching. Her hips twitch, too. 

Lars relishes in the touch of Emerald's lips for as long as he can, kissing her deeply and wetly, with his tongue shoved haphazardly between her sharp white fangs. His cock twitches and throbs and, unable to wait a moment more, he grasps his cock in one hand and starts to stroke it, keening eagerly into Emerald's half-open mouth. Then, suddenly, he yelps in surprise as she slaps his hand away, parting their lips with a sloppy string of saliva that she promptly breaks with a swipe of her tongue. "Fuck me," she tells him.

He nods. She rises and tugs two of the sofa cushions free, then tosses them on the floor and kneels on top of them on all fours, one for her hands and one for her knees. Then, she looks back at him over her slim pretty shoulder and whistles, "Here, boy."

He practically pounces, gripping tightly to her hips and finding them to be pleasantly padded with pudginess. He pushes into her without another thought, grunting softly as he at long last feels her soft squeezing pussy again. The smell of her reaches him even here, wafting up towards him from her rear. It makes him sloppy, his mind reeling uselessly and his thrusts uneven and unsteady, one hard, one gentle, one somewhere in-between. Emerald reaches for his leash to correct him, only to realize that she's forgotten to attach it, leaving her pinned helplessly underneath him and him effectively in control.

"I think the hormones have gotten to the poor thing, Emerald," Hessonite remarks as she rises from the sofa and removes her gloves. She doesn't phase them off of her form, but actually removes them, snapping the elastic pointedly and tossing them onto the nearby coffee table as she approaches them. Lars tries to snarl as she grabs him by the hips and steadies him, stilling his desperate horny thrusts for a moment. "You can relax. I'm helping you."

Emerald stiffens for a moment as Hessonite begins to guide Lars' hips, until his thrusts become rhythmic and steady. Then, she sighs happily and lets it happen, feeling the steady comfortable stroke of Lars' sizable cock within her, exactly as she wanted. He bends farther forward, hunched over her back to reach into her even more deeply, making her keen and sigh and moan. She yelps when he nips at the back of her neck, just below her hairline, then sinks his blunt teeth in and leaves a dark mark on the tender skin. 

Hessonite smiles, amused. "It's quite the misbehaving creature, isn't it? But I suspect that's why you like it."

"Can we not talk about this right now?" Emerald pleads. Hessonite laughs, then goes eerily silent.

Lars is moaning softly into Emerald's shoulder, his face flushed bright magenta and one particularly prominent vein bulging down the midline of his forehead as he hilts his cock in her again and again and again, when something sloppy wet suddenly hits him in the back with a plop! He whirls his head around, craning his neck to see over his own shoulder, and sees Hessonite smirking down at him maliciously. She's phased a sizable hole in the front of her captain's uniform, and the thing that hit him in the backside is nothing other than a thick, slimy cock. It resembles a tentacle, smooth on the topside but subtly ridged along the underside, with some sort of bulge at the base.

"You're going to fuck me," Lars pants deliriously. His voice sounds wobbly. It's hard to focus on anything other than his arousal right now, so strong were the pheromones he had been haphazardly inhaling.

"Are you asking me or telling me, organic?" Hessonite prompts. 

Her cock is shiny-wet all over with its own sticky lube. He watches how it glints wetly in the chamber lights for a moment more, tongue lolling halfway from his mouth, then hitches his legs farther apart and replies, "Telling you."

"Excellent," Hessonite hisses. Lars has to focus hard to not thrust into Emerald while Hessonite eases into him, thoughtful enough to at least rub her length up and down along his tender anus a few times before she starts the initial push. She isn't rough or punishing, the way he expected, but fairly gentle at first. She eases into him slowly, up to that strange fat bulge at the base of her cock, then holds still and waits for a moment. He shuffles his hips, adjusting to the sensation; it isn't uncomfortable, but her cock has an unusual feel to it, wetter than Emerald's had been. It's self-lubing and slick, bordering on slimy. But, after a moment more, he's accustomed to it, so he nods to her and turns his attention back to Emerald, who is watching them impatiently over her shoulder.

"If you please, pet," Emerald whines unhappily, "I'm very ready to continue."

Grinning, Lars restarts his thrusts. He's unsteady again, but Hessonite quickly corrects him, not by grabbing him by the hips and physically pacing him this time, but by starting up her own in-and-out rhythm of careful motions. He moans a few times, then subconsciously begins to follow her lead, matching her pace within Emerald. It takes them a moment, but soon, Lars is thrusting steadily into Emerald while Hessonite thrusts steadily into him, quickly reducing him to a whining, keening, sweating mess that can't think or focus on anything else but the thick cloud of his arousal. 

Overstimulated, Lars is the first to come. His arms are hooked underneath Emerald's body in a tight lewd hug as he shoves himself as far into her as he can reach, keening sharply as he erupts like a long overdue geyser. She moans, too, brows furrowed and nose wrinkled at the warm familiar sensation. He pants wearily as his orgasm subsides and starts to go still, but Hessonite won't let him, gently taking him by the hips and guiding him for a few thrusts more, until Emerald gives a sharp whine and shudders with the force of her own climax. Unfortunately for Hessonite, she won't get her turn to moan and come with a shudder, because the instant that Emerald comes, her elbows wobble unsteadily and she falls forward on the cushions, flopping down weakly on her face with Lars quickly collapsing on top of her. Hessonite's cock comes free from him with a comical wet pop, then the room descends into a hazy warm half-silence, filled only with the sounds of the machinery behind the walls and Lars' and Emerald's panting. 

Hessonite watches the two of them for a moment, whimpering helplessly in a heap of arms and legs with Lars' dwindling erection still hilted inside of Emerald. Then, she sits down wearily on the sofa, on the one cushion that still remains, and starts to stroke her cock, resigned to her fate as the odd man out of this unlikely threesome. She strokes until it starts to feel pleasantly warm, her slick lubricant oozing between her fingers, then closes her eyes with a purr.

She opens her eyes when she feels a warm little tongue on the tip of her cock. It's Lars, standing alongside one side of her legs on all fours with his little pink tongue poking out from between his lips. He laps steadily along her length until he comes to her clenched fingers, then glances up at her as if to say, Well? 

Hessonite hesitates for a moment, then removes her hand. Lars' tongue instantly glides down her length to its base, where it encircles all it can of the thick knot she bears. Hessonite relaxes and leans back into the sofa, allowing her eyes to yet again flutter closed. This time, her eyes don't reopen even when she feels a second tongue join the first, smiling faintly as she feels Emerald's long green tongue weave around the very tip of her cock, gliding smoothly through its slit to lap at the pre it so copiously spills. When Lars' tongue ventures back up towards the tip, Emerald's moves down to the base. Hessonite bites her lip. Then, Lars takes her cock into his mouth and starts to suck and, with a sharp grunt, she erupts.

Hessonite opens her eyes to find them both panting and grinning between her legs. She smiles faintly, panting softly herself, then lifts a hand to lightly pat Lars on the head. "Like I said, a firm hand."

"He listens when he wants to," Emerald says after a moment, slowly recollecting herself and getting to her feet only long enough to plop down on the sofa, shoving Hessonite over so there's room for both of them on the one intact sofa cushion.

Hessonite chuckles. "Not how I expected to spend my day."

Emerald shrugs, watching idly as Lars ventures back over to the sofa cushions in the floor and lies down on them. "I suppose this changes your opinion of him, then?"

Lars rolls onto his back and shows them his stomach - and his cock just underneath, impressive even when inert. He grins cheekily, looking altogether too charming for someone settled on a come-covered cushion with a collar around his throat. Hessonite watches him, too, then rolls her eyes with a faint smile. "He's alright, for an organic."


End file.
